


Change (In The House of Johnson)

by mangocianamarch



Series: Le Livre de L'un par La Dame Marciana [5]
Category: Being Human, Being Human (UK), The Almighty Johnsons
Genre: Crossover, Crossover Pairings, M/M, One Shot, cameos by the other Brohnsons, oh also colin gunderson is kinda sorta but not really in this hahahaha, only one way to find out :D, someone may or may not die in this fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-27
Updated: 2013-05-27
Packaged: 2017-12-13 04:06:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/819784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mangocianamarch/pseuds/mangocianamarch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mitchell gets backed into a corner he never wants to find himself in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Change (In The House of Johnson)

**Author's Note:**

> I WAS trying to finish chapter 6 of my Durincest slave!au WIP, "Ut Vere Liberi Eritis," but then this plot bunny nudged and wouldn't leave me alone, so I wrote it out. Maybe now it will leave me in peace to write ancient homo slaves having yummy sex with their hot-as-fuck dominus.
> 
> Title inspired by the song "Change (In The House of Flies)" by Deftones. Which has been used in almost every sexy vampire movie since "Queen of the Damned." ALMOST.

It was never supposed to happen this way.

It was never supposed to happen, full stop.

The Johnsons were supposed to have the upper hand. They were supposed to have Colin cornered.

Colin wasn’t supposed to surprise them. Colin wasn’t supposed to nearly kill Ty.

Colin wasn’t supposed to end up getting Anders instead.

Stupid, arsehole, dickhead Anders, who had pushed his younger brother out of the way and taken the knife straight to the chest instead.

Mitchell remembers falling, as if suddenly all the air had been driven right out of him. He remembers his vision going hazy, his head swimming, his ears ringing. And then Anders was in his head, hollering, calling him, clearly in a world of pain.

Mitchell had begged it to stop, had pounded at his head where he was on his knees on the floor, telling the voices to shut the fuck up because he couldn’t breathe. But the more he had commanded the voices to stop, the louder they had gotten, and then Mitchell was growling, his fangs bared, suddenly in pain himself.

And then his phone had started ringing.

Ty could barely get any words out. When Mitchell could manage to get anything out of him, it was stunted, and to anyone else would probably not have made much sense. The only full sentence Ty had been able to form was, “He needs you.”

Mitchell had driven like a madman, barely having any time to wonder how he knew where to go. When he had finally arrived at the edge of the forest, he could already smell blood and death in the air. With bile in his throat and his heart somewhere around his knees, he had run as fast as he could after the scent, bursting onto the scene and causing everyone to start.

And this is where they are now, a picture of pain, shock, panic and desperation.

Mike, Axl and Olaf give a start when Mitchell finds them, but Ty waves them off. “He’s okay,” he says quickly, “He knows us, he’s safe.”

“Who the fuck is he?” Axl asks.

Before Ty can tell everyone that he’ll explain later, Anders coughs, and wheezes out a single word.

“...Mitchell.”

He’s on the floor, Ty half-cradling him, Colin’s knife still wedged almost dead-center in his heaving, bleeding chest. He’s paler than ever, his eyes already half-lidded, his entire body seeming limp and weak. He mumbles Mitchell’s name again, and Ty shushes him in as gentle a tone as he can manage.

“He’s here, Anders, he’s right here,” Ty tells him, “He made it.”

“W-what?” Anders manages to say, his brows furrowing, “No! Not...not what...can’t be here...shouldn’t...”

Mitchell swallows hard, rooted to the spot. He can feel Anders slipping away, can smell the end coming, and all he can do is watch.

“Guys, you gotta go,” Ty tells the others, voice hitching as he fights back tears, “You gotta catch Colin. He’s got the sword, if he gets to the sea, it’s all over.”

“No, we’re not leaving,” Axl protests as Mike tries to drag him away, “Fuck, we’re not leaving, we can’t leave Anders!”

“We’ll be fine!” Ty argues, “Fucking go, you don’t have time!”

Mike and Olaf half-drag Axl away, trying to tell him that Ty is right, trying to reassure him that Anders will be okay. In Ty’s lap, Anders cries out a little, cringing and twitching.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, Anders, you’re okay,” Ty says shakily, looking up at Mitchell, “You have to do something.”

Mitchell has never seen Anders like this. Anders is strong-willed, a fighter, a jerk sometimes, but never weak. Never helpless. Mitchell can’t help but stare, not just at Anders, but at the whole scene, as if he’s someone else, watching himself being absolutely useless.

“Mitchell!”

Ty’s tear-stricken voice brings Mitchell out of his reverie, and finally his feet remember how to move. He makes it over to them, where his knees finally give way at Anders’ ashen face.

“What did you do, you stupid git?” Mitchell asks him, taking his hand, “What the fuck did you do this time?”

“Being nice,” Anders manages to reply, albeit brokenly and breathlessly, “...Out of character, eh?”

The little smile Anders struggles to give him is about all Mitchell can take. He starts to cry, and so does Ty, who lets out a small chuckle. “You idiot,” Ty says, “You’re a good guy...You’ve always...fuck, you’ve always looked after me, Anders. You’re a good br-brother, you always have been.”

“Been stupid...” Anders answers, “...Been...been an idiot...Gonna be...out of your hair soon.”

“Don’t you fucking say shit like that,” Mitchell pleads, his grip on Anders’ cold hand tightening, “Don’t you give up on me, Anders, don’t you fucking dare!”

“Can’t you save him?” Ty asks him, tearful, “Mitchell, can’t you do anything for him?”

Mitchell turns wet eyes up at Ty. “I...” he stammers, “I don’t...Ty, I can’t...Not him, I can’t do it to him...”

“We can’t let him die!” Ty argues, “Mitchell, this wasn’t supposed to happen! That knife was meant for me, but he fucking pushed me out of the way! It wasn’t supposed to be him at all! Mitchell...Mitchell, _please_...”

Mitchell wipes at his eyes, completely torn. He doesn’t want Anders to die either, but if he changes him, he’ll die anyway, and then things could be worse for him than if he had stayed dead. The life of a vampire isn’t one he’d wish on anyone, much less someone he’s loved as much as he’s loved Anders.

“Mitchell!”

Ty’s desperate cry makes Mitchell want the earth to swallow him up. He needs to make a decision, although either way, he knows he’ll end up regretting it in the future.

“Mitchell, I’m _begging_ you, please! If you love him, you’ll save my brother. _Please_.”

“Turning him isn’t exactly saving him, Ty!” Mitchell replies, “You don’t know what you’re asking. He won’t be the same!”

“Maybe he will,” Ty answers, “Maybe he’ll be like _you_. Please, we’re wasting time arguing, Mitchell, he’s _dying_! Anders is _dying_!”

“Hey...”

They both look down, although Anders’ voice had been almost too soft and weak to hear. They find him smiling, and it grips at Mitchell’s heart and twists.

“I’ll be fine,” Anders tells them soothingly, “It’s go-It’s gonna be okay. It doesn’t...doesn’t hurt anymore. I’m juh...Just really glad you’re...both here...This is a...a really good way to go.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” Ty answers, “Not on our watch. Not fucking yet.”

But Anders isn’t listening to him. With his free hand, he reaches up gingerly and clutches at Ty’s arm. “I’m sorry,” he says, “Sorry I couldn’t have been...less of a git...Sorry I was—wasn’t there when you r-really needed me...I’m sorry about D-Dawn. You...you’re my best mate...and I know, I _know_ , you’ll be okay...”

He turns to Mitchell, and he smiles again. Mitchell can’t stand it.

“You...” Anders whispers, “You’re amazing, you know that? I know I...I haven’t been the ideal person to...to live with...haven’t been...the best boyfriend, but...You’re such a good person, Mitchell...You’ve g-got a...a good heart...Don’t...don’t ever let anyone destroy that...”

“I won’t,” Mitchell replies, “I promise.”

“I’m tired...” Anders says, “I just...I need to rest.”

Ty nods, sniffling. “Of course you do,” he’s barely able to say, “You just...You go ahead and you...you rest up. We’ll...We’ll be right here. We won’t leave you.”

He strokes Anders’ hair as Anders’ eyes close, his breathing easing but slowing.

Mitchell is fighting so hard to stop crying. He’s got his other hand balled into a fist on the ground, as if this is all the ground’s fault. He didn’t even get to say goodbye properly. He doubts Anders would hear it now. Mitchell isn’t sure he’s strong enough anymore, not with all the energy it’s taking him to keep himself under control.

“Mi-Mitchell...”

Ty’s voice is hoarse, wet and desperate. He’s looking up at Mitchell with big, sad blue eyes.

“I can’t change the dead,” Mitchell tells him, “No matter how badly I wish I could right now.”

Ty shakes his head vigorously. “He’s not...” he says, strained, “He’s not dead yet. Once vessels die, the god’s soul leaves it immediately, or else it will be trapped there and die too. Bragi’s still in here, I haven’t seen him leave yet. Anders is still here, he’s still with us. You have to help him, Mitchell.”

“Ty...”

“He loved you, Mitchell, he did. He needs you right now. He’s calling, can’t you hear him?”

No, Mitchell can’t hear Anders in his head. Not anymore. He can’t find the heart to tell Ty.

“I need him, Mitchell. Please, I need him. He’s my brother. OF the three of them, he’s the only one who really, truly cared. He looked after me. I’ve got no one without him, Mitchell, _please_.”

“Ty, _please_...”

Mitchell rubs at his face with his free hand, stroking it into his hair. Ty has finally stopped begging, and it’s very quiet now.  Mitchell looks down at Anders’ face. He looks so peaceful, almost happy. It’s not a look he had on his face often, but it’s familiar to Mitchell. He got a lot of those looks from him when he made breakfast, or when he would stay up late to wait for Anders to get home, or that time Mitchell had bought him for fish for his aquarium. And now again, teetering on the edge between life and death. Maybe it’s the quiet. Maybe it’s because Anders knows he’s safe here with Ty and Mitchell. Or maybe because he knows Mitchell won’t let him down. That Mitchell will make a decision, and they’re both going to be okay with it.

In Mitchell’s hand, Anders’ finger twitches.

Mitchell is suddenly very aware of the pulse growing fainter and fainter in Anders’ wrist.

\--- + --- + --- + --- + --- + --- + --- + ---

_Beep beep._

Mitchell checks his phone. _Jesus, Ty, it’s only been 20 minutes since you’re last text. Fucking chill out._

 _Is he back?_ Ty’s text reads.

 _No_ , Mitchell replies, _Don’t text again. Wait for mine._

Mitchell sends the message, and pockets his phone. Closing his eyes as if it’ll help him hide from his thoughts, he leans his head back against the wall, sighing. Every inch of him feels so tired; he doesn’t ever remember being this exhausted, not even when he was alive. Not even when he was training. Not even in the barracks. He can feel it in his bones, his muscles, his skin, even his eyes. The darkness behind his eyelids is a welcome comfort.

The silence around him is almost stifling, but this is how he prefers it. The fact that he’s aware that it’s so quiet means that he can’t hear himself think, which is a blessing. After the day he’s had, he really doesn’t want to think, nor does he want to know what he’s thinking about. He breathes in deeply through his nose, and lets it slowly out of his mouth. That feels much better than it usually does.

He looks up at the time. It’s just about 10 minutes past midnight. Mitchell has no idea how long he’s been here, but he does know that he needs a smoke right around now. He pulls his cigarette holder out of his pocket, takes out a stick, and lights it up with his special little lighter. The holder and the lighter had both been gifts. He probably should let go of them now, but it wouldn’t hurt to hold on to the little things, would it? Sometimes, the little things are the best part, and make the happier, more lasting memories.

20 minutes pass, and Mitchell half-expects his phone to go off, but it doesn’t. Ty has apparently heeded him, thank goodness. He hates to have to keep Ty away, while they’re waiting, but it’s better for everybody this way. It shouldn’t be long now, anyway, it’s been a few hours since----

There it is. That familiar feeling in the air. Suddenly it’s not very quiet in his head. There’s a loud ticking now, like a timebomb that’s too close, or as if he’s standing inside Big Ben’s gears. It’s a countdown, and he knows _exactly_ what it ends at.

In the middle of the room, Anders suddenly sits bolt upright, chest heaving as he gasps for air. Mitchell rushes over, grasping Anders’ shoulders.

“Hey,” Mitchell says, placating, “Anders, hey, it’s okay, you’re okay.”

Anders, still breathing heavily, looks up at him, his eyes completely black in their sockets. Between his parted teeth, Mitchell can see glimpses of his teeth, white and shiny and sharp. Anders’ dark eyes squint slightly as they take in Mitchell’s face, and then slowly they fade back to Anders’ natural blue.

“...Mitchell?” he asks quietly.

Mitchell nods, a hand behind Anders’ neck, fingers rubbing soothingly. He gives Anders a small, reassuring smile. Anders’ eyes look around at the room, until they spot Colin’s knife sitting on a table in a far corner. His gaze shifts back to Mitchell.

“You brought me back,” Anders states.

“Not technically,” Mitchell replies, “We told you, didn’t we, that you weren’t going anywhere?”

“Why?”

Mitchell shrugs. “I wanted to,” he says, voice barely above a whisper.

“You said you’d never change anyone again.”

“I did.”

“What happened?”

“You did. You happened.”

“Mitchell?”

“Yeah?”

“That’s dis _gustingly_ sweet.”

Mitchell laughs, a real laugh this time, and doesn’t bother to fight the urge to kiss Anders. It’s the same. It’s still the same. _He’s_ still the same. This is still Anders. This is still them.

“Welcome back,” Mitchell tells him when the kiss breaks, “I missed you.”

Anders smiles back at him. “I’m hungry.”

 _Yup_ , Mitchell thinks to himself as he bites into his own wrist to open it up for Anders, _Still him._

The look Anders gives him as he feeds from Mitchell’s wrist is absolutely lecherous.

_DEFINITELY still him._

**_~ END. ~_ **

 


End file.
